Piqued
by Val-Creative
Summary: She's used to erratic manifestations of naughty thoughts, if they're aimed at her or not. These are slow-melding, cascading in warmth and trust, and Queenie can visualize every metre. /Post-Movie. Real!Percival Graves/Credence. Gradence. Gravebones. Standalone.


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She's never met anyone like him.

Queenie has willingly entered minds (and at times _unwilling_ ) of so many witches and wizards, from different countries and life experiences.

" _Sadness_ " does not begin to explain Credence Barebones.

There's bright bulb-flash glimpses of a rage-contorted face and a thick belt — _Mother, please! I'm sorry!_ — and lone, shadowy alleyways and a red, flaming glow hovering — _Help me, someone, I'm_ — tangled in darkness.

In only several minutes, she understands what the pulsing and innately magical force is, contained so skillfully inside his body.

What a _spectacle_ — he has formed it out of tragedy and breathing right at her doorstep.

The closer Queenie steps to him, the bigger Credence's eyes widen. She lifts her fingers, as if considering mournfully tracing his cheek.

"Oh, honey… "

"That's enough of that," Percival Graves says coldly, firmly bringing his arm round Credence's trembling shoulders. There's no mistaking how protective the motion is, unconscious or not.

Queenie watches both of them, full of curiosity, as the younger man relaxes gradually against the hold.

Tina — bless her — speaks up. She refrains from delving into the nature of Tina's anger, whether or not it's personal towards the _real_ Percival Graves or residual trauma. "She's a Legilimens. She can't help it every second of the day."

As grim and steely his features are, there's a buried _kindness_ thrumming within "Mister" Graves, and it's fueled by Credence's thoughts.

Queenie smiles in a quiet, secretive glee.

"That's no excuse. Anyone can control their magic abilities with enough practice and discipline." He stares right at Credence, meeting solemn, and dark eyes before the other man looks away bashfully. "Isn't that right, Credence?"

"… Yes, Mister Graves."

 _Percy_.

Queenie becomes fascinated by the soft, stirring acknowledgment passing between them. Is that… a pet name? An… _affectionate_ name?

Oh my.

 _Oh_ _my word_.

She's used to erratic manifestations of naughty thoughts, if they're aimed at her or not. _These_ are slow-melding, cascading in warmth and trust, and Queenie can visualize every metre.

Mister Graves's intimidatingly large fingers move over Credence's nape, squeezing gently — _when_ _the same fingers covered in translucent oil, fill and stretch out that tight ring of muscle, slick up Credence's rim to a deep, wet pink_ — massaging down, anchoring — _the young, naked man howls out for release, digs his nails into Mister Graves's torso, leaves painful, blood-red scratches in their wake, arching desperately_ —

— "Are you alright, miss…?"

This is not a voice she recognizes.

To her amazement, Queenie sees Credence looking over her, his eyebrows furrowing with worry.

She flushes harder, already covered in a light perspiration, grinning and pretending to fan herself. "It's so dang hot in New York these days," Queenie trills out, starting to get nervous when Tina stares in outright confusion.

"What are you talking about? It's _freezing_ —"

She waves a playful, delicate hand at the men glancing between the sisters, now ignoring Tina. "You know those cold sweats—don't you, fellas?"

"Do you mean a _fever_ of some kind?" Mister Graves asks doubtfully. Queenie nods at him, forcing a wider and more convincing smile. "Then shouldn't you be resting…?"

Tina rushes over, now frantic and grasping her hand. "Why didn't you _tell_ me you were sick?"

A twinge of guilt echoes in Queenie's chest.

They lost their parents to illness. Tina _hated_ when Queenie kept getting sick to herself.

"No, no, don't fuss like that. I'll be better in no time, Teenie," Queenie promises, kissing her sister's cheek lightly and cradling Tina's hand.

In fact, her body cools and loosens from an outsider's arousal, and the pink heat on Queenie's cheeks vanishes. She takes the opportunity to close off her own mind.

Sometimes _curiosity_ can be so darn troubling.

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 _FBaWtFT isn't mine. SECOND ATTEMPT AT GRADENCE/GRAVEBONES! When I was taking time exploring the fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme I ended up coming across " **Queenie + Any Pairings = Voyeurism** " and it seemed like far too much fun to pass up lol! Hope everyone had fun reading! Please leave some thoughts!_


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